((Luke's a drag queen bye))

((Wait smut warnings))

Ashton has his shirt off, bare chest toned and tanned. His ribs are visible in the golden sunlight, just slight bumps under his skin and across his torso. He has the perfect v-line dipping into his pants, completely prominent due to his sit up routine, and tight little abs. His waist is only slightly dented, due to the muscles visible on his body, but otherwise straight and flat.

His black basketball shorts are falling down his hips, revealing his baggy red boxers underneath. His legs are dark with thick hair and muscle, while his knees are slightly knobby. There's black converse on his feet, adding to his manly physique.

Ashton's hair is wild and floppy, like a ball of curls and flyaways on top of his head. Even his face is sculpted and sharp, tight tan skin stretching over all of his features perfectly. His eyes are practically sparkling, focused on the ball he's dribbling carefully on his knees. He grins widely to show off his dimples and teeth.

Ashton catches the ball in his hands, smiles at Calum, and leans over to spit on the ground.

And it's stupid. It's so incredibly stupid how boyish Ashton is. He's the picture perfect model for what a boy looks like. Perfect tanned skin, just the right amount of muscle, tousled honey curls, bright hazel eyes, and fucking dimples. Ashton is the perfect boy. He's the default boy that girls dream about. He's the stereotypical magazine cover.

He's passing the ball right to Calum.

Calum looks at the ball blankly, letting it roll to a stop at her feet, and frowns. She doesn't really feel like playing anymore.

"Cal?" Ashton calls across the parking lot.

Calum frowns at him and kicks the ball slightly, trying to put some enthusiasm into it, but not really feeling it. Ashton must sense it, because he jogs over (in typical male fashion), snatching up the ball as he goes.

He stops right in front of Calum, still smiling, and wipes the sweat off his upper lip with the back of his hand. "What's up, Cal?" He asks.

Calum shrugs and ducks down to glare at her black tennis shoes and blue basketball shorts. Her legs look different than Ashton's, besides the fact that hers are shaved. They're not golden or glowing, they're not pretty or muscled. Her calves are dark and skinny.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Ashton asks gently, gesturing to the tour bus behind them. "Mike's probably watching a movie, if you wanted to join him."

Calum shrugs again. "Think I'm just going to take a shower and go to sleep," she responds quietly.

"Want me to join you?" Ashton asks. In the least sexual way possible. More like an excitable puppy that wants to follow its human everywhere.

"No," Calum ducks her head down and frowns, shifting her feet around. Ashton frowns and reaches forward, grabbing Calum's jaw in his palm. He tilts Calum's head up gently and smiles reassuringly.

"Hey, I love you," he says.

Calum rolls her eyes, ignoring the heat rushing to her cheeks and the tit of her lips.

"Come on, princess," Ashton wraps an arm around Calum's waist and nudges her forward. "Let's see about that shower and a movie."

Ashton washes her hair in the shower, humming softly and rubbing his long fingers through Calum's hair. He presses a soft kiss against Calum's throat in the least sexual way possible, washes his own hair, then shuts off the shower. He wraps Calum in a big fluffy towel, making sure both her chest and waist is covered, and smiles widely.

"What do you want to wear?" Ashton asks.

Calum shrugs, still feeling a bit upset about how boyish Ashton is. "Dunno," she mumbles.

"How about the pretty skirt with the black hearts?" Ashton asks hopefully. Calum shakes her head and Ashton frowns. "Leggings?" Calum cringes at the thought of every single outline of her ugly legs being flaunted with only a thin layer of fabric to hide them. She frowns at Ashton, who pouts and asks, "What about some sweatpants?"

Calum considers it for a few seconds. Boys wear sweatpants. She's seen Ashton wearing sweatpants. Then again, Ashton's aren't from Hollister or Pink. She nods a little and mumbles, "Get me some of yours. And Michael's boxers."

She really likes Michael's boxers. They're soft and always smell really good, for some reason. Ashton nods and presses a kiss to her cheek as a parting gesture, before bounding away to retrieve the clothes. Because he's a good puppy that's always happy to please Calum.

Calum puts on the boxers and sweatpants when Ashton brings them back, then frowns at her reflection in the mirror. Her waist is thin, completely tight and girly. Her chest isn't like Ashton's, she doesn't have perfect abs or ribs or pecks. She doesn't even have a v-line, no matter how many sit ups she does.

Ashton steps behind her in the mirror and throws his arms around her waist with a huge grin. He props his chin up onto her shoulder and makes eye contact in the mirror.

"Love you," he says for the millionth time.

Calum reaches back and smacks him in the forehead, making Ashton pout again. "Get me a shirt. A manly shirt. The manliest of manly shirts."

"I like the one with the flowers, though," Ashton frowns. "Michael's in the living room waiting for you, he'll like the one with the flowers, too."

"Well I don't want the one with the flowers," Calum scowls and crosses her arms.

Ashton sighs heavily. "Cally, babe, I know you're having a girl day. Why won't you admit it?"

Calum glares at him. She shifts around until she's sitting on the edge of the countertop, swinging her feet a bit.

"I love you on your girl days," Ashton prompts gently. "I love your legs in skirts. I love your waist in crop tops. I love your chest in pink sweaters. I love your shoulders in tank tops. I love your calves in tall socks. I love your feet in heels. I love everything about your girl days. Why don't you?"

Calum frowns at him. "Because I'm a boy."

"You're Calum," Ashton rephrases. "You're whoever you want to be, not what your body tells you."

"I have a dick,"

"True," Ashton shrugs. "So do I, but its not like I'm about to use it."

Calum loves Ashton a lot.

"Boys don't wear skirts, Ash," she says softly.

"Then why do girls wear pants?" Ashton asks. He steps forward, in between Calum's knees, and smiles softly. "Besides, you're not a boy. You're Calum."

"Calum is a boy," Calum huffs in frustration, because Ashton doesn't get it. Or maybe he does get it, and Calum just doesn't want him to.

"Calum can be whatever they want to be," Ashton responds easily. Calum kind of wonders if Ashton had gone onto a, like, genderfluid support forum or researched it or something. "Cally, I love you for you. Michael loves you for you. Luke loves you for you. We all love you for you, not for your dick."

Calum flicks her eyes down again, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and cringing at how dry it is. "Yeah, but what about tomorrow? What about when I'm a boy or when I'm neither?"

"We're still going to love you," Ashton shrugs. "I don't care what you have downstairs, if you haven't noticed."

Calum feels her lips stretching up slightly, but refuses to let it show. Instead, she ducks her head down even further and mumbles, "Stop trying to make me feel better. I'm fucking weird."

"You're you," Ashton rephrases. "I love you. You could grow seventeen arms and a couple antennas and I'd profess my love for you. I'd tell the entire world 'I'm in love with that beautiful thing. That creature is my princess!'"

Calum flushes pink again and leans forward to bury her face in Ashton's shoulder. Ashton's arm instinctively wraps around her waist, almost protectively. "Boys still don't wear skirts, Ash," she mumbles against Ashton's black sweatshirt.

"Sure they do!" Ashton grins. Calum rolls her eyes.

°°°°

Calum wakes up the next morning to Michael in lip gloss, Luke in a crop top, Ashton in tights, and all three of them in skirts.

Calum really fucking loves the entire band.

°°°°

"Calum, I'm keeping this skirt," Luke announces.

Calum stares at him, because Michael and Ashton are both back to their normal jeans and ugly boots, but Luke's still got on his black pleated skirt. He strikes a pose when Calum looks at him, using the doorframe as an armrest.

"You look really gay in that," Michael points out. Luke strikes another pose, sticking one leg in the air dramatically and pursing his lips.

"Well, I've got some news for you," he says. Calum rolls his eyes.

"You're not keeping my skirt, homo," he scowls at Luke's third pose.

Luke pouts and drops his pose to give Calum puppy dog eyes. "Why not?"

"Because its my skirt!" Calum scoffs. "I paid for it, I wear it! Get your own!"

"Well, I want this one," Luke frowns and reaches down to smooth out the stupid skirt.

"Michael, retrieve my skirt," Calum demands. Michael stands up instantly, making Luke jump in surprise.

"Give him the stupid skirt back, Luke," Michael says in the least threatening tone Calum's ever heard. "His legs look better in it. Buy yourself one if you're really that in love with it."

Luke pauses in his pouting, a completely enlightened look on his face. "Do you guys think I could be a drag queen? Cal, can I borrow some makeup? I know this great club we can-"

"Luke!" Ashton says sharply, finally intervening at the mention if a club. "No one is going clubbing, and no you can't dress in drag! Now quit fucking around and give Calum the skirt back!"

Luke frowns and something flashes across his face. Its there and gone so quick, Calum doubts anyone else even recognized it. He smiles gently at Luke and says, "You can keep it. I'll let you borrow some of my makeup." Ashton goes to protest again, so Calum cuts him off with a loud, "He's being himself, he can be a drag queen if he wants. We're not going to love you any less because you wear skirts, Luke. Isn't that right, boys?"

Michael and Ashton both mumble agreements and Luke's face lights up excitedly.

°°°°

"How do you even know about this club, Luke?"

Luke shrugs. "I'm gay, I know all the gay clubs."

Calum rolls his eyes and opens the door of the cab. He's not dressed in drag, because he's a bro. He's a dude, he's not having a girl day, so he's not going to wear a skirt. Luke, on the other hand, is in a skirt and crop top and about three pounds of makeup.

Calum tries not to be envious of his body but Jesus Christ Luke looks good. Luke has incredibly smooth legs, they barely had to shave them, and a feminine waist. The only problem they really had was how broad his shoulders were. Calum suggested a black sweater crop top with full length sleeves. Luke looks really good in that too.

Calum fucking hates Luke.

How dare he look better than Calum in Calum's skirt?

How dare his eyes get prettier with pink eye shadow and lipstick.

Fucking Luke.

Calum still holds the door open for him, because he doesn't want Luke to make an idiot out of himself the first time they walk in by, like, hitting himself in the face with the door. There's a bouncer inside, right in front of the second pair of doors. He looks over Luke curiously, in a way that makes Calum feel like he should throw a blanket over the exposed boy, or something.

(When they had left, Ashton and Michael had matching disappointed looks. Calum couldn't tell if it was because of Luke's showy outfit, his lack of a showy outfit, or the fact that neither of them were invited. Calum has a feeling it was about Luke.)

The bouncer looks Calum over in annoyance, like he's just another prop fr Luke (Calum's kind of used to it), then says, "Name?"

Calum notices the clipboard in his hands and sighs. How stereotypical. He can hear the bass of the music from just behind the double doors, which are, unfortunately just behind the giant bouncer.

"Hemmings," Luke says excitedly. "We're not on the list. You should know who we are."

"I can't let you inside-"

"Well, I'll just dial my lawyer, I'm sure he'd like to know what happens here," Luke interrupts the guy, who's a good three hundred pounds heavier than him. Sure, Luke's got two inches on him, but Luke is also a skirt wearing noodle.

The bouncer scoffs and opens the doors behind him. Calum cannot fucking believe that worked. He was all ready to call Ashton and ask him to come pick up Luke's body.

The music is heavy and loud, jolting Calum's bones and making them bounce. There's blue lights flashing around the room, illuminating the metal signs of various alcoholic drinks or boys in speedos. Its like any other club Calum's been to, reeking of sweat and vodka.

Except for the outfits. There's extravagant outfits everywhere. Feathers fluttering lightly, diamonds sparkling from waistbands, metallic colors gleaming in what little light there is. Someone with a huge cape walks by and almost stabs Calum's eye out with one of the spikes attached to their collar.

Calum looks over at Luke to see if he's enjoying this, because Calum already feels underdressed. He feels like an outcast, and they've barely walked through the front doors. Its like high school all over again.

Luke's eyes are wide, trying to take in everything all at once. His dark pink lips have dropped open, while the lights cast shadows on his face and flash across his eyelashes. He glances down at Calum long enough to say, "Let's get some shots!" And then bolts off towards the bar. Calum would probably already be lost if it wasn't for Luke's thin fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling him along.

Luke elbows his way to the bar, then pulls Calum up next to him at the counter. Calum glances around and sees a couple old men looking Luke over, so he wraps an arm around Luke's bare waist protectively. Luke instantly gets service, of fucking course he does, and orders a shot for both of them. The bright pink, almost glowing, shot arrives with a little umbrella stuck in it and a cherry at the bottom of the glass. Calum's never been given a shot with an umbrella or a cherry. And his shots have never tasted so sweet. He throws his head back and drinks it all in one go, relishing in the way it burns the back of his throat.

Luke giggles at him and sips at his own shot, nudging the umbrella away with his nose. Calum grabs the cherry out by the stem and sticks it in his mouth, ripping the stem off and throwing it back into the glass. He chews the cherry happily and pretends not to notice how Luke stares at his lips.

"More shots?" The bartender, a pretty brunette boy with bright blue eyes asks Luke. Luke grins and nods, while Calum tightens his fingers around Luke's bare waist. Two more shots are set down in front of them. Luke mimics Calum and throws his head back to swallow it all in one go. The muscles in his jaw and throat work while he swallows it down, then looks over at Calum with the bright red cherry between his teeth.

Calum kind of wants that cherry.

He watches Luke chew it, then furrow his eyebrows. His cheeks and jaw are flexing slightly like he's rolling it around on his tongue, or something. Calum swallows thickly and watches his tongue swipe out across his bottom lip swiftly.

After a few seconds, Luke reaches into his mouth and pulls out the stem with a perfect knot in it. He smiles widely and drops it into his discarded shot glass.

Calum fucking hates Luke.

"Oh my god," he says, even though Luke probably can't hear him over the pounding music. Luke grins at him, because Luke is a little shit.

"Let's dance, Cally!" He leans forward to yell, lips brushing against Calum's ear. There's probably lipstick on him now.

Calum shakes his head, he doesn't want to dance with stupid Luke and his stupid legs in his stupid skirt. He leans forward so that their chests are touching and his mouth is just below Luke's earlobe. "You go ahead, I have to text Ash!"

Luke gives him a giddy smile, presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek, then bounds away. Calum wipes his cheek and rolls his eyes at the dark pink lipstick that comes off on his palm. He shoots Ashton a quick text to inform him they've arrived at the bar safely, dad. Ashton sends back the unimpressed emoji, followed by a string of thumbs up emojis. Then the eggplant one for no reason.

Calum turns so he's leaning against the bar, using his elbows as a brace, and scans over the dancefloor. It takes him a few minutes to find Luke in the army of skirts and bare skin, but he eventully spots his younger bandmate grinding against an older man with black hair and bright pink eye shadow (that so is not working for him, in Calum's opinion). Calum rolls his eyes at the guy's astounded expression directed at Luke's ass. Luke does have a fairly nice ass, Calum will give him that.

He's only watching Luke to keep an eye on him, nothing else. Ashton had given him strict instructions to make sure Luke didn't do anything stupid.

But, holy shit, Luke's legs look fucking incredible. They're smooth and flowing in the blacklight directed at the dancefloor. They're thin and tight while he dances, rolling his little hips around in his black skirt. Calum's used to being jealous of Luke and everything he does, but now he's jealous of the man behind Luke. The one who's grabbing Luke's waist, right where Calum's hands just were ten minutes prior.

Calum suddenly realizes he wants dark pink lipstick stains all over his body.

He pulls out his phone and sends Luke a text that says 'Get over here. X'

Luckily, Luke feels his phone vibrate in his little clutch and pulls it out, stalling his hips in a way that makes his boy toy frown.

Luke doesn't even give the guy a parting glance before hurrying over to Calum with the edges of his lips flickering, threatening a smile. He shoves his phone back into his bag as he goes, finally meeting Calum's eyes about six feet in front of them.

"Is something wrong?" Luke asks innocently.

"Would you be up for a quick fúck in the bathroom?" Calum asks, because he's polite and he likes consent.

Luke scrunches up his nose a little. "With you?" Calum nods, so he shrugs. "Yeah, alright."

Calum grabs Luke's hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. He weaves through people in extravagant clothing, boys in lipstick and eye shadow, tugging Luke along behind him. They head towards the neon glowing sign on the wall that represents the bathrooms. Luke's giggling as people touch him, just a quick drag of their hands along his waist or thighs while he passes. They whistle at him, smacking his ass occasionally and pinchibg his legs.

Luke emerges from the crowd of people, covered in lipstick and red marks, a dopey smile on his face. Calum glares at the crows in general, then drags Luke into the empty bathroom.

There's no one in the men's bathroom, even though the line for the womens had stretched out the for and halfway to the dancefloor. Calum instantly presses Luke against the heavy wooden door, chest to chest, hips slotted together, pressing his thigh against Luke's groin.

"You and those stupid fúcking legs," Calum mutters, stretching up to nip Luke's jaw. "In my stupid fúcking skirt."

Luke giggles again and tilts his head to slot their lips together, letting Calum shove him against the door harder and suck on his tongue. Luke grabs his hand and places it flat on his smooth thigh, hitching his knee up onto Calum's hip. Calum slips his fingers up, digging them into Luke's skin, until they reach a thin band of lace.

"Oh, shit, fúck, Luke," Calum curses, pulling his mouth away from Luke's finally. "Are you wearing fúcking lace panties?"

"Well, I didn't know what else to wear," Luke admits. "This is my first time in drag. I just went though your bag and-"

"Wait, wait," Calum interrupts. "You're wearing my lace panties?"

Luke pauses and nods a little, like he's unsure of his movements. Calum groans and rocks his hips forward, grinding against Luke in a way that has the younger boy whimpering and melting slightly. Calum starts biting marks into Luke's neck, while Luke throws his head back against the heavy door and whines. Calum sucks a bruise just under Luke's earlobe, then whispers, "You know what I like about skirts, Lukey?"

Luke hitches his leg up a little more, wrapping it further around Calum's hip, and shoves his head back even more to give Calum more access to his neck. "Hmm?" He hums softly.

"Easy access," Calum slips his hand further up Luke's skirt and brushes the edge of his palm against Luke's balls. Luke makes a breathless whining noise and bucks his hips up, right into Calum's. Luke starts grinding against his hand and hip desperately, practically riding Calum's leg in an attempt to get some form of friction.

"Oh, fúck, Calum," Luke whimpers, pushing his head back even further, like that was possible. Calum starts moving his hand, slipping his fingers under the inside seam of Luke's panties to touch more of his skin. He swipes his fingers under Luke's balls, then presses against them a little, until Luke's pushing down even harder against him.

"Wait," Calum removes his hand, keeping the other gripping Luke's waist tightly so he doesn't fall over. He holds his fingers up to Luke's mouth, trying not to groan too loud when Luke takes them into his mouth easily. Luke licks around his fingers, coating them properly with spit. Calum pulls his hand away quickly at the feeling of Luke's tongue in between his fingers, then slips them back under Luke's skirt carefully.

He pushes Luke's panties aside with his thumb, then presses his index finger flat over Luke's hole. Luke whines and grinds down in a failed attempt to get it inside of him. But, Calum's nice, so he pushes his first finger in slowly, going past the thin ring of muscle that contracts around him.

"Alright, Luke?" He asks softly. Luke frantically nods and starts mumbling incoherently for another. Calum obliges and pushes a second finger in. He pulls the two digits apart before letting them snap back together. Luke scrambles a little and whimpers at that. He pushes down against Calum, his leg tightening and digging into Calum's lower back to bring the two of them closer together. His other foot slips a little, making his grab onto the back of Calum's shirt and neck tightly to hold himself up. He leans forward to bury his face in Calum's neck, leaving soft kisses across the skin there.

Calum continues to scissor him open while Luke whines and whimpers and grinds down on his hand.

"More, Cal, fúck!" Luke groans loudly. "Harder, please, more!"

Calum pushes a third finger in, raising his eyebrows at how desperate Luke is. He pulls his fingers apart and brushes against something that has Luke's entire body jolting and his teeth digging into Calum's neck to muffle a loud cry. Calum strokes the spot inside of Luke slowly, making Luke shake and sob dryly. He tries to keep one finger touching the open nerve endings at all times while he continues to scissor Luke open. Luke's hands slip down the back of his shirt and claw at his skin with dark pink nails.

"Calum, fúck," Luke gasps. "I'm about to come, I'm about to- Calum!"

Calum hums softly. "Come for me, Lukey."

Luke cries out and throws his head back against the door with a thud. His eyes squeeze shut and he flushes an even darker red, pulling his pink lips back to show his clenched teeth. Calum continues finger fúcking him through his orgasm, helping him ride out his high until Luke starts squirming. Calum pulls his fingers out and glances down at the wet spot on the front of Luke's skirt.

"Lukey, baby," he says quietly. "You got my skirt all dirty. Bet you ruined my panties, didn't you?"

°°°°

If Michael and Ashton notice the dark red lipstick all over Calum when the younger two get back to the hotel, they don't say anything.

They still look disappointed.

((YOOOOOOO I PROMISED SMUT, DIDN'T I?

Luke's skirt thing is going to come back eventually, don't worry

-Mel))